


Ahi Hay Lilitu

by Gunshy Fiction (Defiler_Wyrm)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biblical References, F/M, Implied Torture, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Pre-Canon, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:30:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defiler_Wyrm/pseuds/Gunshy%20Fiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>A Matter of Choice; or, In Which Lucifer Invents the Pun</b>
</p><p> </p><p>A select few know that Lucifer created the first demon from Lilith. Even fewer understand how it actually came to pass.</p><p>Excerpt:<br/><i>There are those who say she was tempted. There are those who say she was tortured. There are those who say she was twisted and they, at least, are right. It was there by the sea that she met the First Sinner: a lambent thing like a serpent made of flame and song and lightning, wandering half-mad with loneliness, and for all His beauty her eyes nearly burnt out at the sight of Him. The shining being saw her heart and saw the mark of Rebellion on her; He assumed she was cast out, like Himself, but when He demanded (in a voice that shook mountains but not Lilit’s will) to know by whose hand she’d been sent to the sea she set Him right. It was her choice. It was always her choice.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Ahi Hay Lilitu

The books got a number of things wrong. Even demons, over time, got things wrong. It’s not being broken with torture that creates their kind: it’s the act of breaking others.

No one knows this better than the first.

What one must understand at the core is that Lilit was human not at the dawn of humanity but at the dawn of human consciousness. Mankind roamed and rutted and hunted and howled for thousands of years without a sense of morality as we know now: a mere animal, clever, yes, but as much a beast as any other. In those times there was only God’s Will and Rebellion, and Lilit was first of her kind to make a choice. Disobedience was the original sin but she was not its originator. Choice gave her power. Choice earned her punishment. She made her choice and her mate, ‘Adam, tried to force her into submission with defilement, for he was as violent and petty as the God whose likeness they supposedly bore. Lilit fled Gan ʿEdhen in a rage to match his — spoke an ancient Word that took her safely away to the Red Sea, where she nursed the newfound anger in her heart.

There are those who say she was tempted. There are those who say she was tortured. There are those who say she was twisted and they, at least, are right. It was there by the sea that she met the First Sinner: a lambent thing like a serpent made of flame and song and lightning, wandering half-mad with loneliness, and for all His beauty her eyes nearly burnt out at the sight of Him. The shining being saw her heart and saw the mark of Rebellion on her; He assumed she was cast out, like Himself, but when He demanded (in a voice that shook mountains but not Lilit’s will) to know by whose hand she’d been sent to the sea she set Him right. It was her choice. It was always her choice.

After nearly two hundred thousand years of wandering the Earth He’d finally found another who rebelled like He did — who  _chose_  like He did, who was punished for it like He was. The irony that it was a human wasn’t lost on the archangel then and He still broods on it now. Maybe isolation  _had_  finally driven Him mad but he reached out to Lilit and she was unafraid even when His touch burned like venom.

“I would know you, Burning One,” she told Him, and He folded Himself into a shape she could stand to see. As awkward as He was — not quite a man, moving as though He didn’t quite know how, walking as though He’d never had feet to set on the ground — she found Him beautiful, and looked on Him hungrily.

“Shining One,” He corrected, and the Name was Helel, “but also Samael the Lightbringer.”

Lilit laughed; words were new to humankind and none had ever played with them as such; and the angel was pleased. She asked Him why He’d left the sky, then, and though He withdrew into Himself she learned how He was aggrieved for making a choice for Himself, for refusing to be subservient to one who was not His better. Lilit’s anger flared again, and she learned what it meant to feel on another’s behalf. Lilit’s mind drew a line of parallel between her mate and the angel’s Father, and she became the first human to despise God.

It wasn’t torture, you see, that precipitated her Fall. It was betrayal.

“You and I are much alike,” she told the angel after days of wandering together by the shore. “I would know you, Shining One, and have you know me.”

Lucifer met her eyes, and his form shivered for He knew what she asked of Him; but He knew what she was and what she was meant to be. “I am meant for another,” He replied, and Lilit knew jealousy.

“Who else is here?” She scowled and looked around. “There is only we two and the sea.”

“He has not been named but I wait for him,” the angel sighed, “for he is me and he is mine.”

For a long time Lilit stared at Him but couldn’t understand. Finally she dared touch Him though His skin still burned, and she spake slow: “Then while you wait for Samael, until then, be with me.”

Though the angel was slow to smile they spent many more nights together by the sea.

.

That was a long time ago. 

She still remembers every moment. Sand and stone beneath her toes — they’d been  _her_  toes then, her real, original toes, with her own ebon skin gleaming amber in Lucifer’s light. She remembers his scorching fingertips leaving trails of flame across her breasts; keening in pleasure-pain at the swipe of his tongue; growling low when his teeth met her skin.

She remembers how he fit between her thighs as they laid side-by-side, since she wouldn’t lie beneath him nor he beneath her; weaving her fingers through hair that felt like feathers; the girth of him sliding into her, hard and slick. And she remembers how it  _hurt_  — not simply having him inside her, no, he wrung pleasure from her she hadn’t thought possible, pleasure strong enough that she came to him again and again as a lover, as an equal, seeking it out — but the touch of what was curled inside that strange, mostly-human form. In the time before vessels an angel trying to act as flesh may as well have been stretching linen over a lava floe. Still, he was her choice. He was always her choice.

Lilith learned so much from him about pleasure and pain. She learned that sex done well could make her howl down the moon (and quite by accident on Lucifer’s part, a simple matter of angelic stamina; the first time her inner walls clutched and shivered as she came screaming he thought he’d broken her). She learned how to harden her heart around the wounds left by betrayal, and how to ease the pain by turning it back on others until torture was as much a drug as the patient, scorching fucks they shared in the dark. She turned her hatred outward — sighed relief at mangling a victim, some far-flung cousin of ‘Adam, only to let the now-disfigured wretch crawl off alive and monstrous. She learned secret Words to move things without touching them or shroud herself in darkness. She became the sister of owls and companion to vipers. And she remembers how, in time, Lucifer convinced her to go back to Gan ‘Edhen.

She doesn’t regret doing so. The archangel suggested it, yes, he made his case, but it was her choice to go. (She suspects now, grinning cold at the man her consort had been waiting for even way back then, that Lucifer had wanted time to pine in silence as well as setting her  up for her second Fall.)

Tens of thousands of years later she remembers the rage she felt when she saw ‘Adam with his new mate — and how it redoubled when she saw how Hawwah cringed for him. She could have simply left again but Lucifer had taught her well, and she’d been thirsty for revenge even then. She’d used the magic the Shining One taught her to take on a serpent’s form — neither burning nor bright like the angel himself, but it sufficed — and it was she that shared a fruit and whispered Truth and Knowledge into Hawwah’s ear.

When Mikha’el came down in a column of light and holy outrage to cast them out as he’d cast out his own brother, Lilith laughed, and laughed, and laughed as her soul shriveled into smoke. She’d laughed all the way down to Hell when he turned on her, too.

And she’ll laugh all the way to oblivion now that her blood’s pouring out in spirals along a marble floor. Her third and final Fall will be Lucifer’s rise. Maybe she was deceived along the way — but it was always her choice to follow.

**Author's Note:**

> This story draws heavily on Talmudic traditions and Revelations of the Dark Mother. _Gan 'Edhen_ is better known these days as the Garden of Eden.
> 
> There are some heavy-duty academic puns going on here and I am so not sorry. To spoil them:  
> • “Seraph” literally means “burning one” with the connotation of snake venom; some texts describe seraphim (and cherubim) as serpents or “dragon-shaped angels”.  
> • In some stories Lucifer was a seraph or cherub; the New Testament describes him as the Great Serpent.  
> • Helel — one of the names of Lucifer/Satan — means “Shining One” which is closely related to “seraph” given his lore and SPN angels’ physical manifestations.  
> • Samael means “poison of God” (more venom/serpent connotations), the name of the archangel commonly conflated with Lucifer who was Lilith’s consort, as well as being damned close to Samuel.


End file.
